


Falling Slowly (Dramione)

by SunflowerWoman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beginnings, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship/Love, One Shot, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Post-War, Romance, Sad, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerWoman/pseuds/SunflowerWoman
Summary: Draco finds Hermione toiling away at her desk- again- and missing their date- again. He takes her to Malfoy Manor where they can finally be alone to act on their feelings... if only they have the courage. ((Fluff, romance, not explicit or adult, one shot, short with a twinge of sadness in the middle but a happy ending <3))
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 55





	Falling Slowly (Dramione)

The rain never ceased. It dripped steadily down the glass in streams both large and small, until finally the window transformed into a small sea. Hermione traced her fingertips across the glass and felt the vibrations of the rain thrum beneath her skin. Its consistency was soothing. Lately, her routine had been interrupted by continuous underage uses of magic that she had to investigate and write up in her reports. It seemed like every young witch or wizard in the area had formed a secret club hell bent on ruining Hermione’s sleep schedule, because the calls came at all hours of the day. It was enough to make her normally frazzled hair even more wild, so her usual tight bun to the office had been traded for two braids that wrapped around the sides of her head into a high ponytail. Whenever she moved, she could feel her hair tickle the base of her neck and had to avoid scratching the spot.

It was dark in the office save her small lamp at her desk and the city lights twinkling through the sea-glass windows. The sound of her pen scratching across her report filled the room, as everyone else with a shred of sanity had left hours ago. Only Hermione remained in this department at the Ministry, as she had had a late call to wrangle a trio of fifteen year olds attempting to use _Engorgio_ on themselves. Those calls never went well.

She sighed and rubbed the back of her hand against her eyes. If she was ever going to make it home, she needed to finish this report and get out as swiftly as possible, otherwise it would be another night spent on the creaking sofa in the break room. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Draco enter the room until he had pulled a chair from the neighboring desk to sit directly across from her. He rest his elbows on the edge of the desk and leaned closer so that his face was illuminated in the light.

“D-Draco!” Hermione gasped, losing her grip on her pen as she startled. Her spine straightened and she found herself opening and closing her mouth idly like a fish. 

The man smiled, seemingly amused, and tapped his finger against her discarded pen. “When you didn’t arrive at the pub, I figured you were here.” The smooth gray of his eyes speckled then, less amused and more agitated. “You have to pass off some of these calls onto your coworkers, Hermione. I know, you don’t want to bother anyone with something you can handle yourself,” he cooled, raising a hand to hush the woman’s reply. “But this is getting ridiculous. Now you’re not only inconveniencing yourself, but you’re inconveniencing _me_.” He leaned closer to the woman, inspecting the lines of her face. Skin sallow, eyes puffed, dazed expression. She clearly wasn’t taking the best care of herself. “And that simply won’t do.”

Without a moment’s pause, he shuffled her papers into a neat stack, clicked her pen closed, and placed the objects into a briefcase Hermione hadn’t noticed at his side. He stood and returned his chair before coming over to Hermione’s side. Taking her hand in his like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, he gently led her down the corridor, past the entryway fountain, and out the door to his awaiting car. Normally Hermione would have questioned where they were going or more importantly, _why he was there_ , but her addled brain had trouble processing her thoughts. 

They slipped into the backseat of the car and it immediately started moving to its unknown destination. Draco pulled Hermione close to him and wrapped his arm around her shoulder like a guardian protecting its charge. Hermione allowed herself to be held and rest her head on his shoulder, the fabric of his suit jacket soft on her cheek. As she closed her eyes, the only sensation remaining was the gentle rub of Draco’s thumb against her shoulder. It was enough to lull her into a light sleep.

The next thing she knew, Draco had carefully extracted her from the vehicle and carried her up a short flight of stairs and into his manor, a place that was uncharted territory until now. Forcing her eyes to open, she watched as Draco did everything himself; opened doors, turned on lights with the flick of his wrist, warmed a pot of tea, and nestled Hermione onto a chaise lounge by a low lit fire in his library. There was already a knit blanket draped across the back of the lounge, and he draped it over her without pause. 

Hermione wrapped the blanket around her fist and pulled it up her body until it covered her from foot to face, covering everything from her nose down. It was _warm_ and a faint hint of mint filled her senses. _Draco’s been here, _she thought sleepily, recognizing the scent. He always smelled a little minty if you got close enough. She wondered how many people knew that.__

__The man himself sat in a matching armchair across from her, his elbows resting on the arms and his fingers in a sharp triangle in front of his face. He watched her closely, and she squirmed under his eye. “Draco?” she squeaked, suddenly apprehensive from being so far out of familiar territory- _safe_ territory. “What are we doing here?”_ _

__He moved then, picking up the briefcase he had with him earlier. As he unclasped the case and brought out Hermione’s reports, he shuffled through them haphazardly. “You’re sleeping,” he murmured, his silver eyes flickering to hers over the top of the documents. “I’m finishing your report. Engorgio, eh?” He scoffed lightly and rummaged around in the briefcase for a pen. “You think teenagers would realize that the risks far outweigh the rewards with that one.”_ _

__The fire crackled as a log shifted and fell to the bottom of the grate, and Hermione could hear the rain tapping across the rooftops. Mildly she wondered how that was possible if they were on the first floor, but she dismissed the thought quickly by deciding it had something to do with high ceilings and admitting that she really didn’t care much about it in the end._ _

__Draco began filling in the missing pieces of her report, and Hermione studied him. It wasn’t often that she got to see him in a working environment, so she searched his face, his posture, his body language with renewed vigor. At some point he had pulled out a pair of reading glasses that framed his face just so. The light from the fire reflected off of them and cast a warm glow over his features, making him look even more mysterious and regal than usual._ _

__He sensed her gaze and opened his mouth to speak. “You’re not sleeping,” he said simply, his eyes never leaving the document. “Would you have rather I left you on the couch in the break room?”_ _

__Hermione grunted in response, not a no but not a yes. “Draco,” she breathed softly. He stiffened when she said his name. “Is this okay? Me being here.” She watched as he snapped the papers down and set them, along with the pen, on the floor beside him._ _

__Leaning towards her, Draco placed his chin on his hands and eyed her curiously. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be? This is my house. You’re my guest.”_ _

__Forcing herself to breathe evenly, Hermione sat up and curled her legs beneath her. She wasn’t sure how to phrase this next part but it came tumbling out on its own. “You never talk about your family,” she stated hesitantly, drumming her fingers against her knee. “This place is quiet. Are you alone here, Draco? Since your mother’s passing?” She watched Draco intensely, trying to gauge his feelings, but he sat still as a statue, as though her words had frozen him to the spot. “I know we haven’t talked about it before but now that we’re here, in their house, it seems pertinent.”_ _

__It took a few moments for Draco to move. His joints unlocked themselves one by one and he moved slowly, so slowly that Hermione worried that she had said the wrong thing. Everyone knew of the Malfoys’ tragedy, what with his father executed in Azkaban as soon as Draco turned eighteen and his mother’s illness that slowly ate away at her body until she too passed a number of years ago. Draco was the only Malfoy left in a proud bloodline. Even most of his relatives were either locked up or in hiding from the fallout of the last Wizarding War. Of those remaining, she wasn’t sure if anyone still spoke with Draco. Any research she had conducted to find out more about his family had fallen flat. He was the only source for information, and as much as it pained her to bring up things that surely haunted him, she had to know what he was thinking. What he was feeling. The past year of them dancing around the subject and keeping most things light and surface-level couldn’t continue, especially since they had slowly been building affections towards one another._ _

__Once their interactions after the war began, it took them a while at first to figure out how not to be hostile towards one another. Slowly, very slowly, their words transitioned from snide remarks in the office to prickly concerns about the state of Draco’s tie or the dark circles under Hermione’s eyes, and their facades began to unravel as their voices betrayed their true feelings of concern and regret._ _

__It took a long time before they were comfortable touching one another, even those light touches of acquaintances and friends: brushing lint off of one’s coat, sharing a crowded elevator, grazing knuckles when reaching for drinks. By then, they had been seeing each other two times a week, once on Mondays for coffee in the morning before heading to the Ministry and once on Thursday nights at the local pub since there was a weekly special on the drink they both enjoyed, and the days ticked past without either truly noticing how much time they were spending together. After a month or two of this, they started meeting for lunch every other week. It was convenient for both parties since Hermione brought reports to his floor anyways and Draco forgot his lunch some days. This way, Hermione could slip down the hall to his office and bring him a sandwich to ensure the man didn’t waste away in his chair and Draco could have a moment in peace without someone banging on his door for attention._ _

__He always ate ravenously when no one else was around, like he wasn’t free to enjoy a meal in the company of anyone else._ _

__But the man in front of Hermione now was less carefree; he was calculated, just like he was when they had first bumped into one another after the war. At the time, they didn’t know how to interact with each other, and every word and every movement was a choice, a calculated risk, an attempt at contact. Now, Draco looked at her with piercing eyes, betraying his otherwise cool demeanor. Hermione felt like she could shatter at any moment from the intensity rolling off his body in waves. It was something she hadn’t seen from him before, and part of her wanted to drink in the sensation and commit it to memory. _This_ was the Draco Malfoy that everyone feared. _This_ was the man who dominated his adversaries in the business world._ _

__And _this_ was still the man Hermione had grown to cherish and desire. Albeit a different side to him. A welcome side. _ _

__Draco breathed calmly and removed his glasses, setting them on top of the discarded report. When he moved again, he rose from his seat and crossed the short distance to Hermione before taking a seat on the floor in front of her. He held out his hand for her to take, and she tentatively placed her hand in his. His skin was warm to the touch and he clasped her hand in his delicately, as though she were fragile. He had removed his suit jacket a while ago and loosened his tie, so he looked more disheveled than Hermione had ever seen. A stray lock of blonde hair fell into his eyes and Hermione reached up to brush it away._ _

__He didn’t smile, but he didn’t frown either. Instead, he played with Hermione’s hand, tracing her fingers with his own and exploring the contours of her open palm. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “This isn’t their house any longer. Their ghosts don’t walk the halls, Hermione. They’re gone.” He took another breath before continuing, keeping his eyes on their connected hands. “So yes, it’s okay for you to be here. I say it’s okay. More than okay,” he added. “You’re the first person I’ve wanted to bring here in a long time.”_ _

__Hermione shivered at his words and pulled the blanket tighter around her. She was tempted to pull him up so he could sit with her but wasn’t sure that was wise. Instead, she placed her hand on his cheek and was surprised when Draco leaned into her touch. His body seemed to melt as his muscles relaxed. He didn’t say anything more, and she didn’t ask. He did, however, lean back and pull his body away from Hermione to lean on his palms. He didn’t look at her but instead glanced up at the portrait hanging above the fireplace. Three blondes stared out across the dark library, two of which hosted those startling gray eyes. The younger of the pair was kinder, softer, and the sole pair of blue held a note of tenderness. They greatly contrasted the man in the portrait whose face was stern and prideful._ _

__Draco stared at the painting and Hermione stared at him. The first few buttons on his shirt had come undone, exposing a portion of his chest around his tie. Hermione unconsciously licked her lips and Draco’s eyes darted to her mouth. He smiled lazily and leaned farther back onto his elbows, unabashedly giving her a fuller view of his body. Hermione, startled at his brazenness, flushed pink and turned her attention to the portrait he had been eyeing. “When was this taken?” she asked quickly. Draco kept his eyes on the curve of Hermione’s neck as he responded. “I was seven. The portrait-taker forced me to sit still in that ghastly ensemble for far too long.”_ _

__“The picture doesn’t move,” Hermione noticed, still heated under Draco’s gaze. “No, it doesn’t,” he replied, shifting on the floor and raising his right knee. He patted the spot on the carpet beside him. “Come, sit.”_ _

__Hermione moved without hesitation and dragged the blanket with her. She draped it over her shoulders and extended it to Draco’s lap. He sat up and pulled the fabric across his back, their shoulders and hips pressed together as he sat as close as he could get without crawling in her lap. “I think… my mother would be happy that you’re here. She was always fond of strong women.” Draco placed his arm in the space where their thighs met. “You’re one of the strongest women I know. Smarter than anyone in all of our meetings.” He raised his hand and teased the hair at the base of her neck. “Beautiful,” he breathed softly, and he used his other hand to gently turn her face towards his. She could have broken away if she wanted to, but that idea wasn’t even registering in her mind._ _

__With the lightest of touches, he pressed his lips to her cheek and his eyelashes grazed her temple. Hermione drew in a shaky breath and turned to catch his eyes. They were smoldering, molten silver, mesmerizing. “Beautiful,” he whispered again, this time catching her jawline in a kiss. Another on her forehead, her closed eyelids, until finally her lips._ _

__It was barely enough contact to constitute calling it a kiss. But it was real. And it sparked something inside them, something neither of them knew lay dormant. That night they sat by the firelight, trading whispered kisses and stories until the embers cooled and dawn illuminated the beautiful thing they had become and were continuing to know._ _


End file.
